


Straightforward and Lasting

by CanterburyTales



Series: Adventures in Austenland [3]
Category: Austenland - All Media Types
Genre: Comics, Domestic, F/M, New York
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:56:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3485675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanterburyTales/pseuds/CanterburyTales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back from hiatus.<br/>A fic covering Henry and Jane's first days as a couple in New York and beyond. Pure fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No longer in motion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefifthraven23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefifthraven23/gifts).



> At some point this movie will stop making me write for it. But today is not that day.
> 
> For thefifthraven23 and for cam8787, who asked.

They stayed in. They talked endlessly about what had happened, about how she had felt and he had felt, and Martin and Mrs Wattlesbrook and Andrews and Lizzy Charming. They kissed and made out on the couch. They ordered in Chinese and he laughed at her when she was surprised he could use chopsticks.

"You laugh a lot when you're not Mr Nobley," said Jane, past a mouthful of noodles. 

"I laugh a lot when I'm not trussed up in a costume, having idiotic conversations," Henry said, and she wondered how she had missed the glint of humor in his eyes under the drawn down brows, or the twist at the corner of his mouth. 

"I liked you in the costume," she said, half in challenge, half in honest aesthetic appreciation. 

"Oh, really?" 

His eyebrows raised in combat made her smile. "Really." 

He smiled back and reached for her. "Do you like me now?" and he was looking straight into her eyes. "Or do I need to get a whole new wardrobe?" 

"I like you now," and she really did. She liked the warmth of his hands on her arms, his nose nearly bumping into hers, knees touching. "I never really liked the sideburns all that much." 

"Are you insulting my sideburns now?" and he was openly laughing as she drew her fingers down his cheek. He caught and kissed them, and looked up at her through his lashes. "I like you now too," he said, and kissed her lips instead. 

They microwaved the Chinese later and finished eating, and enjoyed being together, alone in a closed room, without being in motion. They talked and then just sat in silence, comfortable together, half drowsing. 

Slowly Henry lifted his arm from around her shoulder and checked his watch. "It's late. I think I’d better go.” 

She had been half asleep. "Why?" she sighed, wanting to stay forever on this couch. 

He stretched and resettled his arms around her. "It's for the best." He kissed the top of her head. "You need to sleep." He sat up and moved his hands to her shoulders. 

"You could stay and I could sleep. What's the worst that could happen?" 

“Well, we could stay awake all night,” he said slowly and he was looking at her lips again, sending delicious shivers down her spine, “and then you could go into work late, and lose your job. And then Molly would find out and kill me. Slowly.” 

“You’re afraid of Molly,” Jane teased, amused despite her exhaustion. 

“Terrified.” He leaned in and kissed her gently. “I’m not joking.” He kissed her again. “I’d better go.” His only movement was to drop his head a little, until his forehead touched hers. 

Jane looked into his eyes, so close their eyelashes almost touched. The smile she was suppressing made her eyes tilt at the corners, and sparked an answering smile in him for a instant, before he groaned and closed his eyes. 

“This is damnably difficult.” 

“Then don’t go.” Jane half whispered the words. She didn't want this to end, because it was all too perfect, too wonderful. What if his leaving destroyed it, like a soap bubble popping on your tongue, leaving nothing behind but a bad taste? 

His forehead tensed, as if he was searching for words, or possibly will power. He opened his eyes again. "We have to be reasonable about this," he said. He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than convince her. "I've nothing here, not even a toothbrush." 

"It doesn't matter." 

"You've got work tomorrow." 

"It doesn't matter." 

"It does." He leaned back, studied her face and cupped it with one hand. A thumb tried to counter the downturn of her mouth. "I am coming back. You know that."

"Do I?" Jane hated herself for being needy. But twelve hours with him and she did need him. It felt like a teenage crush. It felt like a decade long friendship. Somehow she was tangled up with this man and she was afraid of him leaving. 

"Yes, you do," and as if he couldn't resist her, he brushed his lips against hers. "Tomorrow I will pick you up from work and we will have dinner and spend the evening together. And on Friday, if you still want me to, I'll stay over. With my toothbrush." He smiled gently, reassuringly and Jane, despite herself, felt reassured. 

"That is, of course, if I ever manage to leave this sofa."


	2. Alexander and Jimmy

Henry did go, eventually. Jane did sleep, the moment her head hit the pillow. She wasn't late to work, if you were being charitable. 

Alexander looked over the top of the partition. "So, how was it?" He didn't know about Austenland (though he might have guessed, given she'd had the brochure pinned to the wall of her cubicle for months.) All she had told the office was that she was going to England for two weeks. 

Jane considered the question through the slight haze of jet lag and only realized she was smiling when she saw Alexander smiling too. "Cool," he said. "It was good then." 

Jane pursed her lips, waggled her head, then smiled widely. "It was very good." 

Alexander went to lean back, then leaned forward again. "I need to warn you," and his eyebrows were in that cute circumflex that made him look plaintive, like a lost puppy. "Jimmy's been sniffing around. I told him you were away for a month, but I don't think he bought it." 

"Thanks," said Jane, truly grateful. There was at least the chance of no Jimmy for a while. "Oh! And I got you this." It was a shortbread in a box shaped like a red double-decker bus, bought hurriedly at the airport. 

Alexander was her best friend in the office, though maybe ally was more the word. They were the only two not either in long-term relationships or active on the dating scene. She didn't know his story and he didn't know her's and neither of them asked. But they had each others backs, though Alexander probably had her back more, because she was the one with the irritatingly persistent ex. And he was more pleased with the box of shortbread than it really deserved. 

"Thanks, Jane! Appreciate you thinking of me." 

"Appreciate you trying to decoy Jimmy!" 

It seemed to have worked. The day stayed blessedly Jimmy-free. She was surprised how nice it was being back with people she knew, if only to nod at, in an environment where she knew what was going on. Despite the jet-lag everything seemed easy and it took until the afternoon for her to realize what it was. She was happy. 

Naturally, Jimmy chose that moment to appear. There was barely time for Alexander to hiss "he's here" when Jimmy was pushing her chair around with his foot. 

"Hey horse-face. Back from Brit-land? I got us an all-American night lined up." He listed the schedule like a boxing announcer describing a Prize Fight. "Sports bar, Monday night game! Oh yeah!" 

"I'm busy." Jane could feel the anger starting in her gut. She had been having a nice day, she was looking forward to tonight and she _did not deserve_ Jimmy in her face. 

"No, you're not. You're just back from" and Jimmy screwed up his face and adopted a whiny voice "trailing around the big Brit houses dreaming that they're yours." He resumed in his own voice. "Back to the real world Janey and the good old US of A. I'll even buy you a burger." 

Jane stood up. This was nothing to do with Henry. She felt how she felt in the airport in London. She deserved better than this. She was not going to be messed around any more. She took in a deep breath and spoke, not quietly and apologetically with a smile, but loudly with arms folded. 

"I am not interested. You are going to leave right now, and you are off the visitor list." Why the hell had she ever left him on it? 

Jimmy narrowed his eyes, obviously thrown by her tone. "Hey babe, is it the time of the month?" He looked across at Alexander, sitting silent and watchful across the partition. "Zander, help a brother out here." 

"Get out!" As Jane spoke, Alexander's jaw set. He stood up and moved down the corridor to stand a foot away from Jimmy, parallel with Jane. 

"My name is Alexander and I am not your brother. You heard what Jane said. Go." 

Jimmy looked from one to the other. "Who's going to make me?" 

"I'll call security." Jane reached for the phone without turning her back, keeping her eyes on Jimmy. 

"And I'll tell them about last time. Remember, when you broke her cup and hit her?" Alexander stood, arms folded, implacable. 

"That was a joke. Can't you take a joke?" Jimmy looked from Jane to Alexander and back again. "Pair of pussies," he sneered as neither backed down. He turned to go then turned back. "You'll be begging to have me back, Janey, as your eggs dry up, just you wait and see." 

The two, along with the other staff, watched him go. A mutter of conversation burst out as the doors closed behind him. 

" _Are_ you taking him off the visitor list?" Alexander asked. 

"I'm going to do it right now, " said Jane, and marched off. 

When she came back, she leaned back in her chair and luxuriated in the knowledge that Jimmy was never going to sneak up on her again. She'd been crazy not to do that before. But she knew now why she hadn't. She'd been afraid he was right. She'd been afraid he was the best she'd get. 

"Better to be alone than be with him," she muttered to herself. 

"Damn straight," and Alexander was looking over the partition, grinning at her. "He's a disease. But I'm guessing that's not your only two choices?" He looked pointedly at the space where the "I heart Darcy" sticker had been. Jane followed his gaze, blushed and then laughed. 

"Yes, there's someone. Want to meet him? He's meeting me here at six." 

Alexander grinned wider. "I'd love to."


	3. Cooking dinner

Alexander met Henry in the lobby and spoke to him for a few minutes. As they left he gave Jane a thumbs up behind Henry's back.

"You have protective friends," Henry said as they walked out in the warm air. "I'm rather anxious about meeting your parents." The teasing grin and sidelong look short-circuited the sudden dread Jane felt. "Not as much as I am," she muttered.

"Why don't we go back to the apartment and I'll cook," she suggested out loud. 

"Are you sure?" he said. "Aren't you tired after your first day at work?" 

"No, I'm not tired." But maybe he wanted to go out? "But I guess you prefer to go some place? Let's do that. Where will we go?" 

Henry took her hand and she stopped talking, struck by the security of it, how tiny her hand felt wrapped in his. The joy of their first time holding hands came back to her, running together as if running away from the world and she suddenly wasn't worried any more. She looked up and his eyes were soft and he was smiling a little, as if he remembered it too. 

"I would love to cook dinner with you, if you're not too tired." He squeezed her hand a little and she squeezed back. "Is that okay?" 

It was more than okay. 

They stopped on the way back to her place and she dithered a little deciding what to buy, but finally got steaks and salad. He added some fresh tomatoes, ripe and sweet, and a small bunch of herbs and she put in a bottle of red wine. They headed back, the bag of groceries held against Henry's side by one of his hands, her hand firmly held in the other.

When they got inside she started to bustle around, getting the pan out. "You sit. This won't take long." 

"Don't you think me capable of washing a salad?" He was teasing her again. "I'm not actually a Regency gentleman. I can help." 

Jane turned to look at him. He appeared perfectly serious behind the combative raised eyebrows. "Well, okay." She put out the colander and salad bowl and left him to it. 

The steaks sizzled as she put them in the hot pan. Salad washed, Henry was looking at the plates over the sink. "May I use this?" he asked, taking down the largest. 

"Sure," Jane said and turned from the pan to watch him. He took a chopping board, checking for her approval with an enquiring glance, and a knife. Then he started cutting the tomatoes with a practised ease that showed he had done it many times before. 

"You can cook?" This man was constantly surprising her. "How did you get to be so perfect?"

Apparently she said the last part out loud, because he was looking across at her, eyebrows raised in surprise and mockery, a grin splitting his face. He wagged the knife at her in lieu of his finger. "I am far from perfect, Jane Hayes." He looked down, finished slicing the tomatoes, put the slices on the plate and looked back up. "I moved away from home a long time ago. If I hadn't cooked for myself, I would have starved." 

Jane shrugged, pressed a steak gently, then turned it. "I just don't know any guys who cook." She paused, curious but wary of saying something that would upset him. "No-one ever cooked for you?" 

He looked up from the plate where he was scattering ripped up herbs. "Not really, no. Friends sometimes, my mother...but all I do is basic stuff. No baking or anything like that."

"Do any guys bake?" Jane had been wondering about Sophia but he obviously wasn't going to go there. 

Henry gave her a sidelong look as he rubbed one hand against another, removing the herbs clinging to his fingers. "There's a Swede in our department. Huge, burly guy, bald." He clenched his fists and hunched his shoulders for an instant and Jane smiled, visualizing this stranger. "He rides a motorcycle at weekends. Well, one day he brought in a cake he'd baked himself. He was shocked to hear none of the men baked." Another sidelong look, this time with a teasing smile. "I never felt so inadequate." 

"Oh, stop that," said Jane, laughing despite herself. Ooops, she was forgetting the steaks. She got out a wooden board and put the steaks on it to rest. She turned back and he was there, plate on both hands, mouth pulled into a serious straight line that was trying to turn back into a grin. 

"Tomato and basil salad, milady." He nodded his head then let the grin escape. "I'll put it on the table." 

They put the food out, he poured the wine, they sat down and smiled at each other. 

"I'm curious," he said as they started to eat. 

"What about?" 

"What's all that?" and he pointed at the mountain of Austen stacked at the end of the table. Jane looked, looked down and fidgeted.

"It's kinda embarrassing," and she looked up half expecting a teasing smile or disapproving eyebrows. But Henry looked straightforwardly curious. "It's stuff I collected. Stuff that reminded me of Jane Austen and Regency England." 

"Oh." He was obviously waiting for more, head tilted to one side, entirely focused on her. 

"I guess...it was a safety blanket. And when I came back I decided I didn't need it any more. The day you came, I'd spent the morning getting rid of it." 

"Do you still want to get rid of it?" he asked gently. 

"Yes, I think so. It was too much." She looked around the apartment and shrugged. "Maybe this is still too much. I don't know." 

"I love your apartment." He was smiling now, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. "It's you. Your taste, your interests, it's individual. It's much better than my place." 

She was confused. "But your house is beautiful." She'd checked it out again at work. It looked even better on the large screen. 

"Outside, yes. Inside, not so much. I'd stripped it back and painted but Sophia left before we furnished it. When I was doing it, I just bought the first things I saw in IKEA. Besides my books, there's nothing of me there. I envy you this." 

He looked a little sad saying this, and Jane took his hand under the table. "Did she break your heart? Sophia, I mean." 

He looked at her, looked at the table and considered. "It broke my heart losing the future I thought we had together. Maybe losing the person I thought she was. But she was never that person." He looked back up, head to one side, a gentle smile on his face. "But for a long time, I've just been lonely. I've had no hopes for the future. And now I do." 

His hand squeezed hers, then drifted up to touch her cheek. They sat and looked at each other in silence. 

"I'm so glad we didn't go out," Jane confessed, snuggling her cheek into his hand. 

"So am I," he said, and leaned across the corner of the table to kiss her. He moved back and looked at his plate. "Ahem. I think I'd better concentrate on eating. I don't think this would microwave well." 

"Probably not," Jane agreed, enjoying the bubbles of happiness inside her. The bubble hadn't burst. It was just as rainbow bright as ever. His smile matched hers as he leaned over to kiss her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mundane, I know, but look at the story title. There is not going to be drama :) 
> 
> That didn't quite turn out as I expected, but I can see Henry having no dreams, while Jane definitely had too many.


	4. Jimmy Again

It was too much to hope that Jimmy would stay away. When Jane came out of the elevator on Thursday there he was, waiting at the security desk. 

"Go away Jimmy." She could see Henry in the corner looking across in surprise and she just wanted Jimmy to vaporize. 

"Hey Janey, it hurts that you took me off the list..." He broke off as Jane started to walk away then stepped in front of her. "But how about a coffee? Talk about it? You're single, I'm single, we can make this work." 

"I'm not single." Jane tried to step around him but he got in front of her again. 

"Don't lie, Janey. I don't know why you're pissed at me, but..." 

"I'm not lying," and then the voice came over Jimmy's shoulder. 

"She isn't," and Henry was there, face tightly controlled, only his voice betraying his annoyance. Jimmy turned and looked up. 

"What's it got to do with you?" 

"I'm her boyfriend," said Henry crisply. He watched Jimmy deflate and a faint hint of disgust crossed his face, as if he'd discovered dog shit on his shoe. 

“You really are scum, aren’t you? Jane has told you that she is not interested, but you won’t take her word for it. Perhaps you'll take mine. Clear off and leave her alone. Do you understand me?” 

Henry was clearly more intimidating than Jane or even Alexander. Jimmy slunk away without a word. Henry breathed in deeply, as if clearing a nasty smell. Then he held out his hand. "Shall we?" 

She couldn't help smiling as they walked down the street. He looked at her and shook his head. "You're laughing at me. What have I done?" 

"You said you were my boyfriend." All her life, Jane had been calling guys her boyfriend far too quickly. It was different to have it happen to her. It was _nice_. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, should I not have said that?" 

"I liked it," and she grinned up at him. He looked down again, a long-suffering expression settling on his face. 

"You're still laughing at me." 

“Well, it did just occur to me that I told you no twice and you still followed me here.” He was so fun to tease.

“Ah, yes. That’s true. I suppose I have no right to lecture anyone.” 

He looked at their hands, swinging between them, fingers interlocked together. “Though of course, I do think it different in my case.” He looked sideways at her, eyebrows raised, grin suppressed, knowing full well what she was doing and enjoying it. 

“Of course you do,” she answered, openly teasing him. 

“The difference is, you still thought I was pretending. Almost the last words you said to me were, ‘It didn’t matter that it wasn’t real.’ You didn’t reject me, you rejected the pretence. I like to think if you had rejected me, I’d have let you be. But losing you because you thought I was a fake - that would have haunted me.” 

“Oh, come on," and she felt embarrassed at the thought her rejection could have affected him that much. He looked down again and closed his eyes for a second, an edge of seriousness cutting through the amusement.

“No, of course, you’re right. Losing you because you rejected ME would have haunted me even more.” 

She laughed and nudged him with her shoulder. He smiled, gave way and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You are such a dork!” 

“I am _not_ a 'dork',” he protested. His emphasis made it clear he wasn’t entirely sure what a dork was. 

“Yes you are,” and she looked up sideways, at the way his lips pressed together to suppress a smile which escaped at the corners of his mouth and crinkled the skin beside his eyes, those deep blue eyes brimming with mischief…”I love you,” she said, then stopped, cursing herself. 

At her words his face changed completely, the mischief leeching away, the lines softening and the smile winning a complete victory over his face. As quickly as the light shone, it faded, clouded by concern at the expression on her face. “What’s wrong?” and he manoeuvred them out of the stream of pedestrians, cupped her face in both hands and studied it. 

She tilted her head and studied him back. “Too soon?” She was terrified it was too soon, and he’d run to England and never look back and...

“A bit late, actually,” and the pursed lips and the amusement were back. “I’ve said it already.” 

“No you haven’t.” A sudden memory assailed her. “Well, except in the play and, you know, that’s different….”

“No, it wasn’t,” he said quickly. “I meant it then and I mean it now. I love you.” 

Gently, sweetly, he kissed her, his hands moving from her face to her back, drawing her close. Around their ankles a scalding breeze blew, bringing the smell of fermenting garbage from the over-flowing cans on the corner. The sidewalk was sticky underfoot and the sound of traffic harsh on the dirty street. “Get a room, fer Christ’s sake!” yelled someone. The moment had absolutely no right to be magical, but it was.


	5. Molly and Phillip

"I should have shaved." 

"The just out of bed look suits you." 

"Does it? That's fortunate, since I just got out of bed." 

It was Saturday morning. Henry had stayed over with his toothbrush, and they had talked until the morning light was creeping around the edge of the drapes. They'd both fallen into an early-morning drowse and only woken when it was horrendously, sinfully late. When Jane had turned on her cellphone there were messages waiting. 

> Hey Jane, drop down for coffee, Molly

> PS bring Henry

> Okay, make it brunch. Molly

> Are you going to make lunch or do I have to go up there and get you?

A quick reply and they were on their way downstairs. At Molly's door Henry stopped. 

"We didn't bring anything." 

"We're just dropping in. It's fine." Still, he looked awkward when Phil opened the door. 

Phil Andrews was a tall, lanky guy with sticking up red hair, a ready smile and glasses that were 50% affectation. He worked with computers and adored Molly, not in that order. 

"Great to see you guys," and Phil's wide smile infused the conventional words with sincerity. "You must be Henry, right? I've heard so much about you." They shook hands and Jane could feel Henry relax. 

Phil and Molly's apartment was a lot larger than Jane's and there was a large room to cross before the windowed nook where the table was. "Do you want eggs, Janey?" Phil asked in a low voice as they crossed the room. "Cos I'm going to be cooking them." 

"No thanks," said Jane, grinning. Her eyes turned to Henry. "Phil's a terrible cook. _Terrible._ " 

"That I am," said Phil, quite unperturbed. "Here they are," he said more loudly as he turned the corner. 

Molly was sitting at the table, which was set out with food, orange juice and coffee. Jane rushed over before she could get up and hugged her. "It's so good to see you!" 

"Hey, it's been six days," but Molly was hugging back. "Sit, sit," she said over Jane's shoulder. "Late brunch. We got pancakes, and Phil picked up fresh bagels and pastries, or I can fix some eggs..." 

" _I'll_ fix the eggs," said Phil, quietly but firmly as he sat down. 

"I have to try a New York bagel." Henry said. "I've never had one here." 

"Then you've gotta have one!" Phil was from New York state, and his years living in the city had turned him into its greatest advocate. "You haven't lived until you've had a real New York bagel and lox. They're still warm." 

Molly looked at Jane as Phil started to talk about his favourite bagel shop and rolled her eyes. Jane smiled back and grabbed a bagel herself. 

They chatted while they ate, about New York food and living in the city. 

"Clearly Manchester isn't New York," Henry said, and Phil was nodding with his _well-New-York-IS-the-coolest-place-on-earth_ face on, "but I love living so close to the heart of a city. I love being able to walk to work, walk to theatres and shops, having everything on your doorstep..." 

"Right," Phil nodded, "Exactly," and he looked across at Molly. 

Molly rolled her eyes. "Hey, I'm good. Just saying, _you're_ going to be schlepping the diapers home. Not me." 

"You could get one of those little tartan trolleys old ladies use," Henry said, a teasing glint in his eye, and Jane had nothing to say because she was just enjoying this so much, watching this man talk to her friends. 

Phil's face lit up. "That's a cool idea. I will totally do that." 

Jane couldn't help giggling at Henry's horrified face. "He's joking." 

"Thank goodness for that," and Henry was sagging in relief and Phil was laughing at him and it was just _so good_. 

Molly sipped her decaf coffee, made a face and put her head to one side. "I gotta ask. Henry, you're a nice guy." 

"Thank you," he responded, looking embarrassed. 

"Stop being so English. Where'd your aunt get the idea you were stuffy and uptight?" 

"He _was_ stuffy and uptight," Jane pointed out. She got an amused glance from Henry and a withering one from Molly. 

"It's rather silly," Henry began. Molly raised her eyebrows, waiting for more. "My family are given to anecdotes. So if you only know us by what my mother tells you, my studious lecturer brother is a rebel and I'm a curmudgeon." 

"Sounds like Jane's mom," and Molly rolled her eyes. "Wow, Jane's mom's stories. She has your whole life mapped out for you, right Janey?" 

"Yeah, well, she gets these ideas how things should be," and Jane shrugged. "She gets..." and her hands waved to show the indescribable attraction her mom had to her ideas, "and she gets upset when they don't turn out that way." 

Phil nodded. "Parents. Mine wanted me to be a doctor but they got over it." Jane suspected Phil's parents had the same level of denial as her mom. Phil had been coding when he was eleven. 

"I have to say," Henry said, "My parents always let us go our own way. They never put pressure on us." He shrugged and half-smiled. "They just told stories about it afterwards." 

"Yeah, mine were pretty good that way too," Molly said. "Remember my emo phase?" Jane absolutely remembered it. "I told my mom I was so unhappy, and she said," Molly's accent changed subtly, "'Honey, if you want to be unhappy, we're okay with that.'" 

"That's how we'll be with our kids," said Phil while everyone else laughed. He touched the bump gently and smiled into Molly's eyes. 

"I think you are very wise," Henry said quietly. 

Phil leaned in, kissed his wife, then stood up. "Girl talk time, right? You sit, us guys have this." Table cleared, Phil wandered off with Henry in his wake. 

Jane's eyes followed them. "Wonder what they'll talk about." 

Molly looked when Jane was looking and shrugged. "Who cares?" She turned the full focus of her attention on Jane like a spotlight. "So?" 

"So?" Jane asked back. Molly waited and Jane crumbled. "It's fantastic, Molly, you have no idea. He's...he's just great." 

"Engaged yet?" Jane stopped in mid-flow and stared at her. Molly shrugged and her mouth went up in one corner. "You know, you crazy pair, taking it slow." 

"Ha ha," Jane said. "Not yet. How about you? Sorry I haven't been around but, you know..." 

"Hey it's cool." Molly shifted in her chair. "Practically the entire rest of the world has been ringing me." She adopted a sing-song voice, "Any news Molly? Anything happening?" 

Jane was dying to ask if there was any news but bit her tongue. Molly looked at her out of the corner of her eye, smirked and took pity. "Dr Wade says if nothing happens in the next few days I'll be induced. So not too much longer." 

"How do you feel about that?" 

"Relieved mostly." Molly shifted again. "Kinda tired feeling like a beached whale. And my momma is coming so I'll get spoiled rotten." Molly put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. "But I've really had it talking about that. Go on, you tell me everything." 

* * *

When they left, Henry was carrying a book. He saw Jane looking at it and held up the blue-toned, surreal cover. "It's 'Sandman. Dream Country'," he said. "Phil thought I'd enjoy it." He didn't look entirely convinced. 

"You read comics?" Jane asked. 

"My brother Ed does," and Henry shrugged. "I never have." 

Jane headed out to the laundry room. When she got back and pushed open the door, there was a pot of tea waiting. Jane never ceased to be amazed at just how much tea Henry could put away. It must be an English thing. This time however his cup was sitting forgotten on the table as Henry sat reading. 

Jane stepped in and closed the door behind her quietly. She poured herself a cup and watched him. He was absorbed, entirely focused on the pages. 

It felt like a long time since she had been able to study him without his knowing. The light slanted in, highlighting the stubble on his chin, the planes of his face that she knew so well now, the lines around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes that told of how often he laughed. She had not realized at Austenland, all those times she had covertly sketched him, that there was always a tension in him. Here, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, shoes kicked off, he looked younger and utterly relaxed. 

She felt the familiar itch in her fingers, the desire to draw him. Softly she went into the bedroom and fetched her old sketchbook and pencils. Before she left the room, she sent off a quick message to Molly. 

> Tell Phil he's broken my perfect boyfriend. Jane. 

The answer came back before she left the bedroom.

> "Boyfriend"? :) 

She curled up in the chair and started to draw. He continued to read, oblivious. It was only when Jane's phone beeped that he came to himself. 

"Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry. I just started to read and I got caught up in it." He started to move but stopped when Jane shook her head. 

"Just stay there and read." 

"You don't mind?" He sounded almost puzzled. 

"Why would I mind? It means I get to draw you." 

"I'm glad to see you drawing again," he said, still sounding half uncertain. He settled back and watched her for a few minutes, until the pages drew him back in. 

Jane suddenly remembered her phone. It was another message from Molly. 

> Comic huh? Welcome to my world. Phil says sorry not sorry.

Jane tucked the phone away and concentrated on drinking in Henry's face, peaceful in the golden light.


	6. First Fight

They'd argued. 

He'd gone back to his hotel on Monday and she'd missed having him in her apartment so much. On Tuesday evening he'd told her that he had changed his plane ticket. He would stay until the very last minute before he had to return to Manchester for the new term. She'd made a perfectly sensible suggestion, he'd refused point blank, and it all spiralled down from there. 

Jane lay on the bed, face down, arms and legs sprawled out. She felt like screaming. She felt like throwing something. Her groping hand closed on her old toy monkey. She didn't throw him, but lay on her side and cuddled him close instead. 

She was angry with him, sure. Henry, not the monkey. He was adamant, he wouldn't shift an inch. But... 

Jane shifted to her back and stared at the ceiling. She didn't feel the deep down irritation to her bones she'd felt in Austenland. She knew he meant well, even if he was wrong and an ass! She lay on her back for a little longer, staring at the ceiling and hugging the toy. Then she kissed the monkey on the nose, put him back against the pillows, got up, squared her shoulders and went into the other room. 

Henry was walking back and forth in front of the window like a caged tiger. She stepped in front of him, hands up in a gesture of truce. "I don't want to fight." 

Henry looked at her, brow knotted, face tense. "I don't either, but I am not changing my mind." 

"You are so stubborn!" 

"I am? You won't let it go! Look at us!" He waved between them. "Doesn't this show precisely the problem..." and then Jane realized what was happening. 

"Whoa. Not what I came for. Time out." She made the T with her hands. Henry's brow creased in confusion. "Time out. Sit." 

He looked from the couch back to her. 

"Please sit. You're tall and...," her hand indicated her own shortness and the impossibility of growing enough inches to look him in the eye. He didn't look happy about it, but he sat, throwing himself dejectedly onto the cushions. 

She threw her leg over his knees and sat across him, ignoring his confusion and his attempt to turn away. She opened her arms. 

"Come on. Hug it out." 

His face was in profile, beautiful and austere. He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. She suddenly thought _he looks like he expects to be hurt_.

"Come on." She moved forward and with a sigh he moved to allow her arms to go around his shoulders. She pressed up to him and his head went into her shoulder and his arms around her waist. The tension slowly went out of him, until he sighed again, deeper this time, and held her tight. She stroked his hair and felt the pressure in her stomach fade. 

"I love you," he murmured into her shoulder. "I don't want to lose you." 

She kissed his head and thought about that. "Are you afraid?" she asked, leaning back to look at his face. He loosened his grip reluctantly. 

"No." He looked straight into her eyes, face sombre. "I'm terrified." 

"Do you think I'm like her?" and though she tried to stop it, her voice wavered a little. 

He reacted instantly, pulling her back towards him and cradling her against his chest. "I know you're not like her. It's not that. I can't face losing you. I can't." He tilted his head to look into her face. "I know it's a cliché, but it's not you, it's me."

Jane suddenly realized what was going on. She pulled back to look him straight in the eye. "You think I'll hate living with you." Her frank astonishment broke though his armor and sparked a small smile. 

"I can be very irritating. And this is a small apartment." 

"You're crazy." She couldn't even begin to understand why he'd think that. 

"You haven't tried living with me." He didn't say it with a twinkle, or with that combative expression she'd come to know. He said it grimly, as if it was an unpleasant fact. He looked away as he said it as if he couldn't bear to see her reaction, so missed the changes in her expression: disbelief, sympathy, determination. 

She put her arms around his neck and moved to look into his face again. "Let's be reasonable. Let's talk this through." 

That dragged another smile from him. "Are you going to use my own weapons against me?" 

"Just saying we should think about this. How much time do you spend in your hotel room now?" 

He thought about it, but he didn't answer. 

"Practically all the time we haven't been at work we've been together, mostly in this small apartment. So where's the problem?" 

"I'm glad you call my research work," he said. "Not everyone would." 

"Not the point!" said Jane and jabbed him in the chest. He jerked back with a look of shock, then suddenly he was laughing. 

"You are so persistent. I don't know what to do with you." He sighed, then sagged sideways and they toppled down together, lying face to face on the couch. He closed his eyes as if in surrender and finally answered. "I accept the point you're making." He took a deep breath. "But what if you hate having me here? I really don't want to put any pressure on...this. On what we have." 

"We were going to move in together some time," she said, as matter-of-factly as she could, half afraid he would deny it. "Why not now? Why spend good money on some place you're barely going to see?" 

"I admit I hoped we would move in together at some point." He traced the side of her face with a finger. "At some point when I was enough under your skin that you could put up with me." 

She was half sorry at his lack of understanding and half exasperated by it. "I _love_ you, you complete _doofus_ ," she said, and jabbed him in the chest again. 

She would have explained exactly how deeply he was under her skin already, but he was kissing her and she was too busy kissing him back. "I love you," he said between kisses. "This is insanity," he said next. They kissed until they were breathless.

"If I need a break I promise I'll tell you, as long as you promise to do the same" she said, with the stone cold certainty that she would never need to tell him any such thing. It was only one month, he'd be gone far too soon. The sadness she felt at that thought must have shown on her face, because he suddenly looked remorseful, his brows drawing together, his mouth turning down at the corners. 

"What am I doing?" and he was stroking her face. "I said I would try to make you happy and instead I've made you look like this." 

"No, it's not you. I'm just sad that you have to go in four weeks. I'd like...I'd really like to spend as much of it with you as I can. If you want to." 

"Of course I want to," and he kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks as if he was trying to kiss the sadness away. "I want it more than anything."


	7. Jack and Hannah

"Heyyyy," and Jane peeped around the door, as tentative as her voice. Over her head the pink and blue balloons squeaked as they tried to follow her through the gap. Molly, pale but happy, looked up from the baby supported by her right arm against her chest. She smiled and held out her other hand and Jane was over there before she knew it, balloons bobbing behind her, gazing down in amazement at the tiny hands clasping each other and the small squashed face under a crown of dark fuzz. 

"She's gorgeous," Jane whispered, afraid of waking someone so new and fragile. 

"She looks like an alien," said Molly. Jane gave her an _oh-come-on_ look. Molly shrugged and gave in. "Okay, I think she's gorgeous too. But I know I'm biased." She looked up past Jane at Henry, who was hovering in the background. "Hey, Henry. Glad you could both make it out of Jane's apartment." 

"It was a wrench," Henry said, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

"You two are like the sweetest old agoraphobic couple." Henry looked confused. Jane was trying to remember the episode Molly was quoting. 

"I miss the Gibson Girls," said Molly, apropos of nothing. She looked back up at Henry. "This is Hannah. Phil's got Jack if you want to meet him?" Henry took the hint, nodded, smiled and went to other end of the room where Phil was proudly parading his son around. 

"You should keep that guy," Molly said, watching him go. 

"So you can push him around?" Jane looked at her sideways. "So what's the big secret?" 

Molly gave the door an unforgiving look. "They're all telling me you forget, so I'm telling you this right now. There's blood, Jane. A _lot_ of blood." Jane had nothing to say to that. Molly went on. "And you spend hours pushing them out, and you look exactly the same! Look!" 

She pulled up her blanket and out of the corner of her eye Jane caught Henry rapidly turning his back. Molly caught the smirk and Jane's eyeline. 

"Come on, Henry, I'm not flashing the room! Stop being so English! " 

"I _am_ trying," said Henry, not turning around, suppressed amusement in his voice. Phil just ignored the whole thing and kept talking without missing a beat. 

"Anyhow, see what I mean?" Molly said. "I still have the baby bump. Depressing." She let the blanket drop, moved the sleeping baby to her left arm, and raised her eyebrows at Jane. "Come on, time to meet her properly. Arms out." 

Jane's eyes widened. "Are you sure? As in, are you sure you want the first baby I ever hold to be yours?" She mimed dropping and Molly rolled her eyes. 

"Sure! Don't be chicken. Look at Henry." Phil had already put Jack into Henry's arms, and Henry was standing, gazing down at the baby as if he had done this many times before. He looked up and met Jane's eyes, delight on his face, and her heart clenched. With a baby in his arms Henry was a new level of irresistible. 

Molly coughed, Jane came to, and Henry and Phil crossed back to the bedside. 

"Arms out," Molly ordered. Nervously, Jane did what she was told and a bundle of soft warmth was placed in her arms. Phil's hand swooped in. 

"Arm under there...you're a natural, Janey." Phil was always encouraging. "You're going to be the best sitter ever." And a wise-ass. 

She looked up from her seat past Henry's protective arms to his face, which even from this angle was gently amused. He met her eyes and grinned then leaned into the baby he held, miming a sniff. Jane copied him and breathed in a fresh, slightly sweet, wholly addictive scent.

"What gives?" Molly asked. "Are you sniffing my baby, Jane Hayes?" 

Jane held out her arms to hand the baby back. Molly waved her away. 

"It's so good, isn't it?" she said with a glint in her eye. 

They didn't stay long. In the cab home, every time Jane looked at Henry, he was looking at her and grinning. 

They got into the apartment, she made tea and still the amusement radiated from him. Jane stood over him, cup in hand, and pulled it back when he reached for it. "What is it?" 

He threw his head against the couch back, eyes glinting under half-closed lids, his smile recklessly wide. "What do you mean?" 

"What's so funny?" He lunged forward for the tea and she pulled it back up out of his reach again. He settled for wrapping his arms around her, chin against her stomach, eyes appealingly directed upwards, mischief still playing around his mouth. 

"I'm just waiting for the question." 

"What question?" Jane had a horrible feeling she knew what the question was. 

"Phil said you ask all your boyfriends whether they want children or not." His grin widened as her mouth opened in disbelief. 

"I will kill him," Jane said finally. "I will literally murder him." 

"And orphan Jack and Hannah? Surely not." One arm unwound itself from Jane and snagged the tea cup. She looked down at him and shook her head, then disentangled herself to get another cup. 

As she sat down, he turned to her, eyebrows raised. 

"So?" 

She glared a half-hearted glare over the rim of her cup. 

"Aren't you going to ask me?" 

"No." 

"Why not?" He was attempting to look forlorn but the amusement kept cracking through the mask. 

"Because you're teasing me." Jane put the cup down to avoid looking at him, because she wasn't sure she could keep a straight face. 

He leaned his back against the arm of the couch, all the better to look at her. "So I'm the only boyfriend you're not going to ask?" 

Jane shrugged and looked back, lips compressed, fighting her own smile. He took a long drink from his cup, eyes alight watching her. 

"Well then, I suppose that makes me _special_ ," and he barely had time to move his cup before she was on him, tickling him without mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know why I got stuck on this, but I did. Hope you like it anyway.


	8. Voices in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted two chapters today, so if you haven't read "Jack and Hannah" yet, go back one! Hope you enjoy.

She'd resisted for days but she was always going to cave. Henry had abandoned his hotel room and they had spent a long hilarious time finding space for his stuff in her drawers and wardrobe and shelves. All that time she hadn't thought about it once, but now, in the dark supposedly going to sleep, she couldn't stop thinking about it. 

" _Do_ you want children?" She felt him shift drowsily behind her and his gentle chuckle over her head. 

"Yes," he said, and pulled her closer against him, tucking her head under his chin. 

She said nothing, just luxuriated in the feel of his warmth and his arms around her, trying to forget the worry that niggled at her. He must have sensed something because when he next spoke, he sounded more wide awake. "Do you?" 

His hand brushed against her arm reassuringly. Jane took a deep breath. "Yes, but what if it's too late?" 

"Too late?" he repeated and she could imagine his eyebrows raised behind her in the dark. "Why would it be too late?" 

His arms tightened around her. "Have you been worrying about this? Because of what your scumbag ex said. _And_ my cursed aunt and that idiot woman." There was an undercurrent of vexation in his voice, before he paused to kiss her head. His next words were more gentle. "Don't worry. We have time. Your best friend has only just had her kids. It'll be fine." 

And she believed him. But still, the niggle... 

"What if it isn't?" She whispered it into the darkness, felt him sigh and turned to bury her head into his chest. She felt the warmth of him under her cheek, the sound of his heartbeat, the splutter as he brushed away her long hair invading his mouth. He shifted, his face directed towards hers, concealed in the dark. 

"Then we'll deal with it when it happens. What matters right now is you and me, not what might happen." 

She breathed out, tension going with it. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so anxious." 

He kissed the top of her head again. "I'm anxious too. It's natural to be anxious about all this. Look...," and his head must have moved because she could feel his breath, still faintly minty, on her forehead. "If we do have kids, I want them to have what I had: two parents, a stable loving home. That's what we need to work out first." 

She arched her back to slowly stretch and move her face towards his. She was glad she moved slowly as their noses bumped. She tilted her head to kiss him. The bristles on his chin tickled, but it was worth it. "You're great. I just wish we had more time." 

"Well, about that," and his forehead had found hers. "I've been looking for jobs. East coast mainly, it doesn't really make sense to look..." His last words were swallowed up in the fierce, relieved kiss Jane gave him. 

"I clearly should have told you that sooner, " he said ruefully, when they both had run out of breath. "You should have said something." 

"Though...what about your job and your house and...," Jane's hand was waving but somehow he caught it and held it close. 

"I'm an academic. Moving around goes with the territory. I have to warn you I may not find anything, but I wanted to try." 

"Won't your mother mind?" 

His chest vibrated gently as he chuckled again, deep in his throat. "No. She's far too relieved." 

"Really? Why?" 

"She thought I was going to _die alone_ ," and even without seeing him she knew how he looked as he emphasised the last two words: the look, the long blink, the amusement that pulled at the corners of his lips. 

"Not on my watch," Jane said, and leaned in to kiss those lips that waited for her, invisible in the night.


	9. Emily

If Austenland's publicity included a shot of what she was seeing right now, Jane thought, they'd double their bookings. The pale pink ornamental carving of her Louis style bed combined with the sprigged florals only highlighted Henry's masculinity. Utterly relaxed, he lay with hooded eyes and lazy smile watching Jane dress. The bright daylight coming through the blinds turned his hair copper against the pillows and caressed his bare arms and chest exposed by the crumpled sheets. He was delectable, somehow decadent and wholesome at once, like an oatmeal cookie dipped in chocolate. 

"We really have to stop talking all night," he observed. It was, once again, sinfully late. 

She turned to laugh at him as she tied up her hair, her working clothes of demin shorts and paint stained sweat shirt already on. "You're so sensible." 

"I am, aren't I? Not a very attractive trait." The idea didn't seem to disturb him as he stretched briefly, then settled back against the pillows. 

"Who told you it wasn't attractive?" Jane grabbed a handful of clothes, crossed to the bed and kissed him soundly. "But you've gotta put it into practice and get up. We promised to help Molly and Phil, remember?" Molly's momma had the habit of cleaning her children's homes if they weren't spotless, and once she started she didn't stop. It drove Molly crazy so the ritual despotting of Molly's place always took place before Mrs Carerra visited. 

"In a minute," and he reached for her. Jane stepped back and grinned at his disappointed reaction. "Nope, we're already late." Her phone beeped from the dressing table. "See?" She threw the clothes at him and went for the phone. He groaned and started to move as she checked the message. 

"Hey, Phil says someone's on the way up. He said they'll save us bagels. You've gotta get dressed right now." Jane headed through the door, then turned back and leaned against it. "I'll put the kettle on." 

"That would be wonderful," Henry said, face down on the bed. 

When she left he started to move again, looking through the clothes she tossed at him, smiling as he listened to the sounds of the kettle being filled. He hadn't realized how much he missed having people around in his three years alone in a big house. He started to dress, putting on jeans then folding away the other clothes Jane had thrown. From the drawer he dragged out an ancient t-shirt he'd packed on impulse. Sophia had hated it and banned him wearing it. Somehow, he didn't think Jane would mind and the thought made him smile as he pulled it on. He was fully aware of how lucky he was. 

The t-shirt reminded him of home and he paused to pick up his phone and take it out of airplane mode. He put it down to get socks then picked it up again as it beeped multiple times. Four messages, all from Ed. The last read 

> Mimi messaged me to say she'd arrived at her hotel. Bet you a tenner she's on your doorstep within the hour.

He barely heard the knock on the door in his shock. Once it worked its way into his consciousness he dashed from the room. "Jane, wait...," but he was too late. The door was open. 

Jane saw a woman about her own height with blonde straight shoulder-length hair framing a face that was like Mrs Wattlesbrook's, but unlike it too. A little older, the nose was shorter, the cheeks rounder but most of all it was a relaxed face and the blue eyes twinkled as they sized up Jane. 

Mimi saw a sweet, pretty face with a pair of intelligent, enquiring blue eyes, framed by wavy brown hair. She took in the shorts and the tatty paint stained top that That Woman would have refused to wear under any circumstances. And she noticed Henry as he started at the sight of her, eyes wide with surprise. The bare feet and tousled hair and faded Bruce Springsteen Reunion tour t-shirt reminded her of the happy student that she had thought was lost for ever. 

"Hi," said the woman who was clearly Jane. "Are you looking for someone?" 

"Yes, mother," said Henry caustically as he approached the door. " _Are_ you looking for someone?" 

Jane's mouth fell open, but she remembered her manners and silently ushered Emily in. Henry's brows went down. He clearly disapproved. 

"I'm in trouble now, you see" Mimi confided to the woman at her elbow. "He only calls me mother when he's annoyed." Jane's amazement slowly morphed into amusement and both women turned to look at Henry.

"Yes, I am a little annoyed, as it happens. I am also rather curious as to why you are currently standing in my girlfriend's apartment." His annoyance had led him to say too much and Henry clearly saw Mimi's mouthed "oh," and the satisfaction that followed. He stiffened up further, into the indignant rigidity he'd shown even as a child teased by his younger brother. Emily wasn't intimidated. She was glad to see Jane wasn't either. She turned back to her, ignoring her son.

"Delighted to meet you. I'm Emily, Henry's mother," and Emily offered her hand which Jane shook, as solemnly as if they were at a Royal tea party. "Call me Mimi. You must be Jane. I've heard so much about you." 

"No you haven't," Henry said firmly. "Answer the question please, mother. Why are you here?" 

"I thought I'd bring you out for that dinner I promised." Mimi's face was a study in innocence. Henry's was a masterpiece of disbelief and annoyance, coupled with resignation. 

"And it couldn't possibly wait until I got back?"

"When is that going to be?" Henry opened his mouth, then realized he didn't have an answer as Mimi looked back at Jane. "Besides," she murmured to Jane, "I have to admit I've been dying to meet you." 

"And I'm thrilled to meet you," said Jane, as firmly as Henry had. "I've just made tea. Would you like a cup?" 

"That would be lovely." 

"I'll just go and finished getting dressed, shall I?" said Henry loudly. His mother showed no signs of contrition, so he raised his eyes to heaven and went back into the bedroom. A message from Ed was waiting. 

> So you finally turned your phone on. Has Mimi arrived? Don't say I didn't try to warn you. If you see her tell her that her other deluded son says hi.

Henry replied.

> I owe you one. Got your message as she was walking in the door. H. 

In the time it took to put on socks and comb his hair Ed had messaged back.

> Do not tell me you are texting me while leaving Mimi alone with your SO. Cretin.

Henry dropped the phone as if it was burning and strode back into the other room. Both women were seated at the table, cups in hand. He was just in time to hear Jane say "...the horse!" 

"No, mother," said Henry, as he got a cup and started to pour. "You are not pumping Jane for information." 

"Hush Henry. Jane is trying to tell me a story." Mimi turned back to Jane as Henry sat beside her. "So you were stranded. What happened next?" 

"Well I waited for a while, but storm-clouds were coming in, big black ones. So I started down the hill, very Elizabeth Bennett. I literally was only halfway down when the rain started pouring. I've been in showers with less pressure. I was soaked." 

"So more like Jane Bennett then," Mimi said, and Jane looked surprised and delighted, as if she had found a confederate. Henry groaned inwardly. 

" _Yes!_ So I took shelter under the trees and then Henry came along and rescued me." 

Henry jumped in. "Yes, I swung her up on the horse and brought her back to the house. It was a disgrace that she was left alone like that." Jane glanced at him, a slight pucker between her brows indicating surprise at his interruption. He grimaced at her behind Mimi's back and somehow she got the message. 

"Well, I guess no-one could know the other horse would break down. And it was nice to be rescued." 

"That wasn't exactly what you said at the time," Henry said, relaxing a little now the danger point was past. 

"So what _did_ you say at the time, Jane?" Mimi asked. She looked amused, but from long experience Henry knew she was observing everything. 

"I said that I didn't need to be rescued, which was also true," and Jane grinned at the memory. "Henry's a little old-fashioned, isn't he?" 

Mimi glanced at Henry, who was starting to tense up again. "He is," and she patted his hand. "He gets that from his father. Henry, Jane has told me you have a prior engagement, so I'll go now. I'll message you about dinner later." 

"That's fine, Mimi," and with the relief came realization that once again he'd been rather less courteous than he should have been. "I'm sorry if I was abrupt. Your appearance was a bit of a shock." 

"It was supposed to be," and Jane caught Mimi's eye and they shared a moment of amusement at Henry's expense. 

"I'll see myself out," but she didn't because Henry walked Mimi out and hailed a cab for her. Before she got in, she gave Henry a hug. "I like your Jane very much." 

Henry looked down, then back up, embarrassed. "So do I," he said. 

"Was that so difficult?" Mimi said, shaking her head. 

As she got into the cab, Henry remembered the message. "Ed says your other deluded son says hi." 

Mimi shook her head again, but it didn't hide her smirk. "If you boys will conspire against me, I really have no choice but to have secrets of my own." 

When Henry got back upstairs, he went straight to his tea and drank it back like a draft of whiskey. Jane just sat and laughed at him. "What's your problem? I _love_ her!" 

"So do I," said Henry darkly, "when she's not interfering." 

Jane looked at him sideways. "So what's wrong with the horse story? It's sweet." 

He looked stricken with horror and she covered her mouth with widespread fingers to contain a peal of laughter. 

"When that happened, I was trying very hard to convince myself that I was just being concerned about you," he said finally. "I did a very good job of ignoring that I was attracted to you. Recognising that now and thinking of how I ripped your dress and held you as we galloped through the rain...I'm torn between being mortified at how improperly I acted and treasuring the memory as something deeply personal. Either way, I don't want my mother to know." Jane took his hand in hers and his face changed, his lips pulling into a straight line to hide a smile. "At the very least she'd tell the world." He held the hand to his cheek and kissed it. 

"Someone once told me it was improper for women to be alone in the dark," Jane said. "But I have done it lots of times. Sometimes being improper is the only practical thing to do." 

"That's consoling," he said slowly. "I _was_ trying to be practical. But I don't like the thought of you being in any danger." His lips pressed into her palm with passionate concern. 

"I wasn't. I'm not. And I won't tell Mimi anything personal to us," Jane said and leaned in to replace her hand with her lips. "Deal?" 

"Deal. And we really had better go." 

Phil opened the door to them. "Babies are asleep. Bagels are still warm," he announced. " _And_ we got cheesecake from Eileen's. Who was your visitor?" 

"Henry's mom," Jane said, clearly enough for Molly to hear. She popped her head up from the couch where she was resting. 

"Henry's mom is here? You kept that quiet." 

"It's easy when you _don't know it's happening_ ," Henry said. Jane hid a smile. Molly nodded in sympathy. 

"Parents, huh?" 

Phil grinned as they headed for the bagels. "Hey Molly, that's us you're talking about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band Reunion Tour, 1999. Worn solidly for four years and then put away for a decade. 
> 
> Ed's texts: 
> 
> \- You know Mimi's trip to Paris? That flight we thought was implausibly early? Well, I've just dropped her off at Heathrow and the flight is early because its to JFK, not CdeG. Heads up, she's coming your way. 
> 
> \- Her flight took off on time, scheduled to arrive at JFK 11am your time. I'm going back to bed. 
> 
> \- Still not up? ROFL. You can never lecture me on sleeping in again. Plane has landed according to the website. 
> 
> and the ones in the fic.


	10. Dinner in Manhattan

"You've never really told me about your parents." Henry's long fingers were busy with his tie, but his attention was fixed on the reflection of Jane in the glass. His lips were slightly pursed, eyes slightly narrowed and mischief was radiating from every pore. She could barely keep the goofy grin from her face looking at him. 

"What are you so happy about?" she threw back. He turned and launched himself across the room and she squealed as he landed headlong on the bed beside her. He shuffled around and put his head in her lap, disregarding his ironed shirt and her best dress. 

"Why wouldn't I be?" and he was looking at her again as if she was the only thing in the world worth looking at. "I'm with you." 

"Exhaustion from cleaning? Dinner with Mimi?" Jane suggested. Neither seemed to kill Henry's mood. 

"I like spending time with your friends. I admit," and his right hand snaked up around her waist, "I _wouldn't_ be devastated if we were staying here instead of dinner but..." and the circling arm gave her a little, encouraging shake, "tell me about your family! I'm curious!" 

She smiled and shook her head at him. "There's not much to tell, honestly. It's just me and mom." 

"Oh," and he was suddenly serious. "I'm sorry." 

"It's okay," and her reassuring smile was echoed in a curve upwards of the corners of his mouth. "Pop passed when I was away in college. It was tough on us both, especially on her." 

"She makes plans for you. She worries about you?" and he was focused on her face, eyes peering as if he wanted to see her better. 

"Yeah," and Jane laughed a little. "She didn't want me to be an artist, that's for sure! That was Pop - he was always able to talk her down. He was just..." and she searched for words while Henry waited, his fingers stroking her back, "optimistic, I guess. Sure it will all work out." 

"You miss him." It was a statement, not a question. 

"I do," and she laughed again. "He was ordinary, just a guy working in an insurance office. But he could make people happy just being there. I guess I'm not explaining very well." 

"No, you are," and his voice was gentle. Jane took advantage of the pause to nestle his face in her hand. He turned his head a little to kiss it. 

"Are you and your mother close?" he asked. 

Jane traced the side of his face with her finger tips, from his temples past his cheekbones and down the line of his jaw. She loved the lines, even though she could never capture them on paper well enough to satisfy her. He watched her face and his lips curved a little. 

"Difficult question?" 

"A little bit. I love her and she loves me but we drive each other crazy." Jane decided to take back control of the conversation. "What about your mom?" She paused, then hit home. "How does she feel about people being late to dinner?" 

"About being..." His face suddenly changed, eyes widening as he drew himself up and looked at his watch. "Oh gosh, we'd better get a move on!" 

* * *

The room was beautiful: sparse modern decor doing nothing to detract from the lights of the Manhattan skyline. The food suited the interior: light and modern. The conversation on the other hand, was, well, baroque was the best word Jane could come up with. Funny, complicated, spinning from New York to England, and last month to centuries back. It could have been intimidating but both people sitting at the table with her had the gift of drawing you in, their intelligence making you feel more clever rather than less. 

Not that it was all high-brow stuff. Right now they were talking about tea. Naturally. 

"All I'm saying is that you _might_ have thought to bring some teabags with you," Henry was saying. The smile lines from his impossibly wide smile threatened to meet the ones curving at the corners of his eyes. "One packet of Yorkshire Tea." 

"All _I'm_ saying is that I'm surprised you can't get it here," Mimi said, swirling her wine in her glass and smiling just as widely. Both looked at Jane. 

"There's _Tea and Sympathy_ in the West Village," Jane offered. "I haven't been there in ages," because really, her interest in England before now hadn't extended much past 1830. Phil had tried and failed to get her to watch Doctor Who. "What's so great about Yorkshire Tea?"

"Oh, nothing," said Mimi dismissively. "It's what Henry is used to. Just like his father, he likes what he's used to." 

"Isn't that a positive trait?" said Henry, chin and eyebrows raised. Mimi laughed. 

"In a husband, yes. In a child, it can be difficult." She leaned across to Jane. "I am so cross at myself that I never thought to bring any photographs." 

Jane's eyes went wide. "Oh, I bet he was so cute as a kid," she said, looking across at Henry. Henry, predictably, looked a little horrified. 

"He was adorable," said Mimi, with a look at Henry that mixed fondness and amusement. "But there will be plenty of time to see them when you are in England." 

"Oh," and Jane was flustered for a moment. "I'm not sure when that would be." She could almost feel Henry's disapproval flaring. 

" _Really_ , mother," and Henry was severe as if he had never laughed in his life. "Jane is an independent woman with a career of her own. You can't just assume she'll drop everything and move to England." 

Mimi's chin went up, as did her eyebrows. She took a sip from her wine and Jane was struck by her resemblance to her son. "Should I take it that you're job hunting here?" 

Henry glanced across at Jane. "Yes, I am." 

Mimi smiled a smile that had a hint of victory in it. " _I_ see." She put her head to one side. "You really have to take care not to jump to conclusions." 

Henry's eyes were narrowed but he was smiling. "And you shouldn't be deliberately ambiguous." 

"I wasn't ambiguous at all," and Mimi looked at Jane, smiling. "If I was going to make _that_ implication, I would have asked Jane when she would be in Cambridge." 

"Mother," Henry half-sighed, as if this was an old discussion. 

"It's not for me, I just think you'd be happy there," and Jane could see Mimi was half-joking, half-serious. 

"I'm happy in Manchester," and Henry was wholly amused now. "I would only move for you." 

"Or Jane?" suggested Mimi impishly. 

"Or Jane," said Henry, smiling across at her and taking her hand. 

The moment was disrupted by a low, very English cough. They turned to see a short, neat man whose dark hair sat in retreat above an intelligent brow . His suit and impassive face might have suggested _accountant_ , but there was a devilish glint in his eye that suggested otherwise. 

"Dreadfully sorry to interrupt, Henry, but I was hoping to be introduced." 

"That's a rather risky strategy, Stephen," said Henry, standing up and shaking him by the hand. "But it's paid off this time." He turned back to the table. "May I present Dr Stephen Philpott of NYU? Stephen, this is my girlfriend Jane and this _is_ my mother, Dr Emily Austen." 

Stephen shook the hands of both, then nodded at Mimi. "I just wanted to say, I read your books as a child. It's what got me into history." 

Mimi smiled. This was, thought Jane, clearly not new to her. A faint memory of a book she had read as a child came into her mind. She'd have to check later. 

"I refuse to take all the blame," Mimi said to Stephen. 

"You should though, you should. But now I've made my oblation I'll leave you to dine in peace." He started to retreat but Henry held up a finger and looked at the other two. 

"Excuse me a moment...?" Jane and Mimi nodded and the two men moved off, clearly discussing something. 

"I take it Dr Philpott is collaborating with Henry on his book?" Mimi asked. 

Jane looked across at them. "Yes, that's right." It was good to meet him; she'd wondered what he was like. Jane looked back at Mimi and smiled. "Thank you, by the way." 

Mimi looked surprised but please. "Might I ask why?" 

"For being so nice. You must think it odd, how sudden it was, the way we met..." 

Mimi laughed out loud. "My dear. It's my sister's business. I've grown quite accustomed to the idea of it. Besides, both Lillian and Jane Austen were instrumental in my own marriage. How could I possibly object?" 

"That's really interesting," said Jane, wondering if it would be rude to ask for the full story. Mimi took pity on her. 

"Lillian and I both loved Jane Austen's novels as girls. We read them all cover to cover, reread them many times except for..." 

"Northanger Abbey?" said Jane with conviction. 

"Precisely," said Mimi, clearly amused. "Northanger Abbey. You might say our reactions to them shaped our lives. I became fascinated by social history, by how people lived." 

Jane nodded. 

"For Lillian, on the other hand, it was the drama that had appeal. She went onto the stage. My parents were," and Mimi's lips pursed with suppressed mirth, "rather less than pleased. She met John Wattlesbrook in repertory." Mimi paused delicately. "You met Wattlesbrook, I think?" 

"Henry said that he told you about what Mr Wattlesbrook did," Jane replied. Mimi nodded with satisfaction. 

"You're forthright. So much easier. Well, you might be surprised to hear that he was a good looking devil back then. Definitely a devil though. Did Henry happen to mention the time I had to slap him?" 

"No!" and Jane's eyes were wide. Mimi's lips pursed in amusement again. 

"Henry is very discrete. So you can imagine I was not in favour when Lillian told me they were planning to get married. " Jane nodded, and Mimi went on. "I told her it was a mistake. We argued, and I said something along the lines of, 'Mr Wickham, more like!' Lillian got very angry with me, and informed me that at least she could see a knight under her nose when he called himself a noble, and then she called me Emma." 

"Ah," said Jane, seeing where this was going. 

"Ah," agreed Mimi. "I'm older than Lillian, and was lecturing in Cambridge and had no intention of getting married. William was there too." Her eyes grew distant and her lips curved in a gentle smile. "Older than me, there for years, a military historian. He was very kind, helped me...it wasn't until Lillian said what she said that I realised it went deeper than that." 

She paused, clearly remembering. Jane was silent waiting for her to continue. Mimi came to herself and smiled. "Thank you for your tact. I've become slow in my old age. I was very cross at Lillian for saying what she had said. It was all very well, but I was certain William didn't feel the same way. It became awkward for me working with him." 

"I can imagine," Jane said, intrigued by the story. 

"In the end I decided I would have to get a job somewhere else. I was on the verge of resigning when William came to me and asked me to stay. He said it wasn't until he realised that I was leaving that he knew he didn't want me to go." 

"That's beautiful," said Jane softly. Mimi smiled again. Her voice this time was brisk. 

"We had a good and happy life together. So you can see why I feel grateful towards Lillian." 

"Thank you for telling me that," said Jane. Mimi nodded and reached out a hand to hers. 

"I have to be honest with you, I feel like you are part of the family already. I hope that doesn't intimidate you." 

Jane grinned. "Not at all." 

Henry returned and looked between them. "So, what plots have you cooked up?" he asked. 

"Only one," Mimi replied. "We're going to drink a toast to Lillian." 

Henry's eyebrows went up. "I'm not," he said with decision. "I pleaded with her for Jane's address and she sent me away empty-handed." 

"Did she?" asked Mimi. "Then how did you learn it, might I ask?" 

Henry shook his head. "You're suggesting Lillian let it slip on purpose? I don't believe that." 

"Benefit of the doubt?" Mimi said. Henry rolled his eyes and shrugged. Mimi grabbed her opportunity. "Very well. To Lillian who brought us together." 

Jane with amusement and Henry with a sigh clinked glasses and echoed the toast. "To Lillian."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's why in [The Nobley Letters, Mimi said Henry wouldn't exist if it weren't for Lillian](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3392513/chapters/7423670)


	11. Seize the Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters again = if you haven't read Dinner in Manhattan, read that first!

They didn't need to get up early the next morning, so they didn't. They stayed in bed until thirst and Englishness won out and Henry got up to put the kettle on. He came back, a cup and saucer balanced in each hand, concentration etching a crease between his brows. A cup was carefully handed to Jane then he cautiously lowered himself down to sit beside her. They sat, side by side, her under the covers and him over them, his pajama clad legs parallel with hers, each with a cup in their left hand and Jane couldn't help but laugh a little, because it was funny and she was happy. So happy. 

He looked down at her, equally amused, then sighed. "You need bigger bedside tables, Jane." She knew exactly what he meant, had seen the slight move forward and tilt of his head before the realization of _tea_ had hit him. 

"Why?" she said. His mouth pulled straight, failing in looking annoyed as she was in looking innocently unaware. 

"You know why." He moved delicately, brushing the tips of his fingers, hot from touching the cup, against her brow. Slowly and intensely the long fingers traced their way gracefully down her face, under her chin and then back across her lips, leaving a trail of heat behind them. 

"You are so beautiful." His voice was low and earnest. "I love you so much. I would do anything for you." 

Her eyes sought his and for a long moment everything stopped. 

"You know you don't have to, right?" she said gently. 

"I want to," and there was something in his face of a knight facing battle, of a desire to show just how much she was loved. But she already knew. 

"But you don't have to. I want you to be happy too." 

The knight vanished, to be replaced by the imp. "Just what did Mimi say to you last night?" 

"You were there," she said, teasing. She waited until he raised his eyebrows to request an answer. "Oh, when you weren't? Just about how she and your father got together." 

"Oh, that hoary old tale," and he lifted his cup to his lips, sipped and grinned at her over it. "Mimi gives Lillian far too much credit. I'm sure they'd have worked it out eventually." 

"But," she said, getting back to the point, "last night _you_ said that you were happy in Manchester." 

"I am," he said, looking sideways at her and taking another sip of tea. "But I'd be happier with you." 

"There's more than one way to do that," she said, looking back and sipping her own tea. "I'm very portable." 

The sideways look this time said very clearly that if the cups weren't there he would have pounced on her to test her hypothesis. "I thought you were _over it_ ," he said instead. "England, I mean." 

"When I said that, I meant I was _over_ it, not that I never wanted to go back," Jane said. 

"I'm afraid it's probably too late," he said in that definitive way which he used to mask a joke. "Saying that out loud in public...your photo's probably been distributed to all the airports. The Queen's declared you an enemy of the state. You set one foot in England, you'll get carted off by the Household Regiment." 

"The ones with the tall hats?" Jane was amused and slightly attracted to the idea. Then she realized he was distracting her. "No," and she drank down her tea and put the cup on the floor. "Seriously. I'm serious. Why shouldn't I go to you?" 

He finished his tea and she took the cup, putting it beside hers. As her back was turned he moved behind her, long arms wrapping around her, chin on her shoulder. "Because it's too much to ask of you." He nuzzled into her neck, but she refused to let the warm tingling down her body distract her.

"But not too much to ask of you? To leave everything behind?" She turned around in his arms and he reluctantly abandoned her neck. She looked into his eyes again, trying to understand. 

Henry moved his arms to cup her face in his hands. "I said on the very first day here that I didn't want to pressure you." 

"But you're not. I want to be with you." 

"And I want to be with you. But it has to be right." He kissed her forehead, where a crease was forming. "Look, I'm not giving up everything. I'm not giving up on being an academic. It's the only way I can get a Visa to stay here. It's just going to take time." 

The kissing had not erased the crease. Jane felt the swoop of disappointment in her stomach and her head moved a little in his hands, the smallest tremor of a no. 

He leaned in closer, voice gentle but serious. "Jane, I don't think you'll be able to move to the UK without...well, without us making a major commitment. We're moving very fast, and I don't want you to do something that you might regret." 

"But why are you taking all the risks?" Jane asked. "I don't understand why it has to be that way." 

"Because that's how it has to be," and he leaned in to kiss her lips, softly and solemnly, as if he was taking a vow. "I want you to be safe and happy and secure. I want to offer you everything you ever wanted and I want you to be free to walk away." He kissed her again, and this time the kiss deepened, washing away all thought and concern from them both.

She forgot about it until the next day back at work. When she googled at lunchtime she found out what he meant. She didn't have a specialist skill, or earn a living from her drawing. Her office didn't have a London branch, she wasn't an entertainer and she couldn't afford a course in England. So if she wanted a visa that would allow her to stay long-term... 

She looked at the page headed "UK Fiance / Fiancee Visa" and realized exactly what he had meant about commitment. She shut down the window, knowing that now she knew she wouldn't feel right about pushing him. Maybe she was foolish, but commitment didn't frighten her, not when it was commitment to him. She could see why he would be worried though. She knew too much and wished that she didn't.

She swung on her chair and made a decision. She was going to stop worrying about it. She was going to be like her pop for once and expect everything would work out. She would seize the days ahead and make the most of them.


	12. Roots in the Air

"Really?" Henry was leaning back in his seat, eyebrows raised in combat, lips pursed to hide his smile. "Both of you? I don't know why you couldn't just order your own." 

"I can't help it. They're just too good," said Jane plaintively. Henry gave her an amused sideways look and pushed the bowl of shoelace fries in her direction. 

"Jane's right," said Mimi, and snagged another, braving Henry's mock-glare. 

It was their last meal with Mimi before her flight. She had seen Jane a few times for coffee and them both on a couple of evenings during her stay, pooh-poohing any suggestion they take time off to help her sightsee. Jane had quietly got the afternoon off to say her goodbyes. 

The place Mimi had chosen for late lunch was casual, a gastropub with exposed brick and no booking. A greater contrast to the Britishness of Austenland was hard to imagine, Jane thought, as she laughed and took ricotta gnudi off Mimi's plate at Mimi's insistence. This was the exact opposite of somewhere difficult to relax in. 

After the bill was paid, Mimi put a paper bag on the table. "My parting gift," she said, and her suppressed smile was just like her son's. Henry and Jane looked at each other, then Henry took the bag and looked in. He gave his mother a long-suffering look. 

"Don't pretend you're not delighted," Mimi told him. "It's not as if you were going to get it." 

Henry took the present out of the bag. It was Yorkshire Tea, Gold Blend. 

"I prefer the ordinary blend," said Henry, lips twitching. 

"Be sure and tell the shop that," Mimi said, not in the least put out. "In the unlikely event you get there. That's all they had." 

"Thank you," said Henry sincerely, and grinned across the table. 

Outside, Mimi looked from one to the other. "Taxi?" 

"I thought I'd show Henry some of the city," Jane said. "Maybe you'd come along?" Mimi looked between them and the suppressed smile returned. 

"I think I'd better not. You enjoy yourselves." She looked across at Henry. "You should be ashamed that I've seen more in a week than you have in three." Henry ignored her, engaged in hailing a cab. 

As it pulled in Mimi hugged Henry and then Jane. "I hope you can come and visit me in England," she said to Jane, and then gave an impish smile across at her son. "I'm sure you'll have every reason to be over this year." 

"What did Mimi mean by that?" asked Jane as they watched the cab pull away. 

"She's interfering," said Henry. 

That much Jane got, it was why Mimi felt the need to interfere that was confusing her. Mimi seemed to think Henry would be back in England for months. That was something to think about, but not right now. 

"Come on," she said, taking Henry's hand and starting to walk. 

"Where are we going?" Henry asked. 

"It's a surprise," Jane told him. Amused but compliant, he allowed her to lead him down the block to Washington St. They turned and walked under the shade of the trees and he watched her every step of the way. So absorbed was he that they reached the bottom of the steps before he looked around him. 

"No, no, don't look," Jane said, thrilled to have got him this close without him seeing. "Look down at your feet." 

Henry looked sideways at her again, a broad smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, took one long look at the ironwork around him, then looked at his feet. Near the top of the stairs she made him close his eyes, and silently led him up the last step and around the corner until Henry's back was to the Hudson, and young trees were in front of him and to his left and right. Under-planted with grasses and foliage, the leaves formed a latticework, blurring the lines of the buildings behind. 

Jane nudged him gently. "You can open your eyes now." He opened them and looked around. Before he could look behind him she was moving again, around the corner where the walkway continued for a few yards through saplings, white birch bark relieving the green. Then the space opened up, the planting box on the left ending to reveal the railing behind, the space between the railing and the larger birches to the right walled off by glass. He looked and then his attention was focused on Jane again as they slowly walked the last few feet and the surrounding city was gradually revealed. 

They stopped at the glass, facing back down the street they had walked up. She looked, sighed happily and looked up at him. He was looking down at her, a smile in his eyes. 

"You're not supposed to be looking at me," Jane told him. "You're supposed to be..." and she waved her hands, as if offering the High Line to him, if not the whole of New York. 

"I can't help it," he said. "You're more intriguing. You have that look." 

"What look?" The leaves rustled in a sudden breeze, blowing her hair onto her face and she smiled. She loved this place. She loved this man. She really should have done this sooner. 

"The look you had in the Abbey." Henry reached out and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. His retreating hand traced her cheek. "A look of _thoughts too deep for words_." He looked away, taking in the view of the Manhattan streets below and the contrasting view of greenery, hiding the city, artfully wild. "This is beautiful. A railway line?" He waited for her nod. "I'm looking forward to seeing the rest of it. Tell me what it means to you." 

Jane tilted her head. "I'm not very good at explaining." He smiled gently and waited for her to speak. The birches whispered in the background as she gathered her thoughts. 

"Well, I love the planting. Birches are just...I really love them. But what I really like...on that path, it just looks like any garden. And then you step out and look over that edge and you see it's a garden in the sky. The roots are in the air. It's...I don't know...it's magic. It's a change of perspective..." 

"Like falling in love," Henry suggested, his eyes exploring her face. She nodded, silent, and their fingers touched as the moment stretched out. He leaned in, but just before he kissed her, he looked in her eyes as he always did and saw she was looking away. Two tourists were watching them, two girls in jeans with backpacks. One was trying not to giggle. 

"Ah," and Henry tilted back. Slightly embarrassed, he and Jane moved away from the barrier. As they passed the girls, one held up a camera. 

"Take our photo, please?" 

Henry took the camera, looked at the button he was to press and took the photograph with a good grace. As he handed the camera back, Jane thought of something. "Could you take one of us?" she asked the girl. 

Henry and Jane walked north up the High Line, her first photograph of Henry safe in her phone. He stopped to look out over the Hudson and at the rails visible through the grass. It was her turn to watch him, fascinated by the interest he was showing. He caught her watching and laughed. "Now you're looking at me." 

"You look at different things than I do." 

"Different perspectives?" His face was aslant, eyebrows half raised, one corner of his mouth up. "We see things in different ways. I'll never forget how you looked in the Abbey, standing looking at the window, lost in it, as if you could see something I couldn't see." 

Jane's surprise showed clearly. "Really, that's what you were thinking?" 

"Difficult to believe, I know," Henry said wryly. "Especially when I was making a habit of saying the wrong thing at every turn. But you were fascinating. You have an interesting mind." 

" _Really_?" Jane said, looking hard at him to see if he was teasing or not. 

"Really," and he took her hand and they started walking again, though another section planted on both sides. It felt secluded, the rustling of leaves disguising the sound of traffic, and High Line was comparatively quiet on this weekday afternoon. They walked in silence, hand in hand, enjoying the sunshine. 

The High Line opened out, the city visible to left and right. They walked along a narrow path, bordered on two sides by low planting and Henry admired the track, laid out here with flower stems and red cloud bushes sprouting though it. "I think that's what my garden in Manchester needs," and he grinned. "Track." 

"What's it like?" Jane asked. 

"Much less artistic than this," Henry said. "Shrubs. Lawn that I curse when I have to cut it." Shadow cut across them as they passed under the arch of a building. 

"I'd love to see it," Jane said, and was surprised at his hand tightening a fraction on hers. In the dim light of the tunnel through the building his face looked tense, the smile tighter. She tilted her head at him curiously, wondering what was wrong. "Don't look so worried! I've spent all my savings, so it's not going to happen. Come on!" She took both his hands and pulled. His steps which had slowed started to speed back up. He smiled suddenly, a wry smile at himself, and when they stepped into the sun he pulled her into his arms. 

"You're being too nice to me. I'm not being fair to you." His words came out in a rush and left him breathless for a moment, blinking in the sudden brightness. 

"We've got things to talk about," Jane agreed, "but it can wait until we're back in the apartment." 

"No," he said. "I don't think it can. I think I'd rather tell you now, before I change my mind." As she nodded he put his arm around her and they went on, side by side. 

The heat shimmered off 14th Street as they crossed over it, and followed the line of the tracks set into concrete. Sunlight was catching the sun loungers further on, and a group of teenagers were gathered, deep in talk and lounging in the sun like cats. As they walked on the grass swished gently, like waves on the sea. Henry and Jane glanced at each other and moved on. 

They were silent entering an tunnel through yet another building. "There's a viewing platform overlooking 10th Avenue," Jane suggested as they emerged into the light again. They passed old brick and new metal, all softened by gauzy grasses and saplings, and then stepped down into the auditorium-like space, focused on large windows staging the street life of New York. 

They found a space away from picnickers and a lone reader and settled themselves down, Henry sitting on the bench with a touch of dread about him, Jane sitting cross-legged looking at him. "You look like you're facing the traffic, not floating above it," Jane told Henry. He smiled wryly again. 

"There's that interesting perspective again." He looked at the street below, breathed out, then turned back to Jane. 

"I never really explained why you couldn't move to Manchester." 

Jane looked a little surprised. "I know why. I wouldn't get a visa. Unless we were...," and she looked away, a little embarrassed, "engaged. I googled it." 

It was his turn to look surprised as she turned back to him, as if that possibility had never occurred to him. "Oh," he said eventually. He paused and then laughed a little. "I'm such an idiot. Of course you would." 

"I don't want you to do anything you're not ready for," Jane said, taking his hand. "But you need to tell me about it. There's other things you're not saying, isn't there?" 

He lifted her hand and kissed the knuckles, the tension returning to his face. 

"I'll ask, and you answer, okay?" 

"Okay." She couldn't quite analyse the look on his face. There was a hint of the expression he had had when they fought over moving in - mingled reluctance and dread. 

"These jobs...if you got one, how soon would you be moving to the US?" 

He was silent for a moment, then his eyes slipped from hers. "September," he said. "September next year." 

She had know the news wouldn't be good, but she hadn't realized just how not good it might be. She breathed out, shuffled closer and put her head on his shoulder.

"How likely is it you'd get a job here?" she asked. "New York, East coast?" He leaned his head against hers. 

"I honestly don't know, Jane. I'm sorry." 

They sat like that for a while, watching the traffic driving away from them, down the canyon of 10th Avenue. 

"You were dumb not telling me," she said, half teasing, half matter-of-fact. "I'm sure I'd have noticed you weren't around eventually." 

He lifted his head at that, turning to stare at her as if her reaction was inexplicable. "You're not angry?" 

"No. It is what it is. Complicated. But we can sort it out." Jane took both his hands in hers. "As long as we talk about it. You have to tell me." She laughed a little. "I'm not _that_ stupid that I won't work out that you keeping things to yourself." 

His brows came down. "You're not stupid," and then his face changed again, looking remorseful. "Don't think that. I never thought that. You were just so relieved when I said I was looking, and then...," he paused for thought, "I don't know, it just became too difficult to tell you." He paused again. "I can't guarantee I'll get anything this year. I might be able to get a sabbatical, but I don't know yet. I can't give you a guarantee of any kind, except that I will keep trying." 

"We'll sort it out," said Jane, determined to be optimistic. "It's not all on you. I might be able to move to you, if I change jobs. Now I know, I can try." 

"I'm not saying not to try," said Henry slowly, eyes fixed on hers. "But it has to be a proper job. Not unpaid charity work. You're not giving up on your career." 

"I haven't got that great a job now. It's mostly just checking photo libraries." 

" _Still_ ," said Henry, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes looking into her eyes. "Perhaps I'm over-cautious but even moving is a risk that I'd rather you didn't take. It at least has to be a decent move." 

"Okay, but the same applies to you," said Jane, the corners of her eyes tilting upwards. "No crappy jobs. You're not sacrificing for me either. Deal?" 

Suddenly he looked like he was fighting a smile. "You think far too highly of me. But, deal." 

"Pinkie promise?" 

"What?" and he was laughing again. She stuck out her little finger. When he copied her, she linked them together, sat up straight and put on as serious a face as she could manage. 

"Pinky promise," and she shook their linked hands. 

"Pinkie promise," he echoed, dropping his head to look up at her through his lashes, clearly entertained. "Is this enough? Maybe we should try a _blood oath_." 

"See, that wasn't so bad," she said, bumping her shoulder against his. 

"No, it wasn't," he admitted, straddling the bench to fully face her. "I was afraid of an argument. I don't want to argue with you, or make you sad or angry." 

Jane put her head to one side, her expression quizzical. "You argue with your mother all the time. You argue for a living, right?" 

"That's not arguing," and his lips were pursed again. "That's expressing honest disagreement." 

" _We_ can honestly disagree," Jane said. "We just need to talk. Especially if it's going to have to be over Skype or something." 

"I keep expecting things to be difficult." His voice was low, his hands in hers, his attention fixed solely on her. "Remembering the Abbey reminded me how things went wrong when I didn't say what I was thinking. I keep forgetting just how... _nice_ you are." 

"You think I'm refined?" Jane was determined to make him smile again. It worked. 

"You are _not_ going to distract me from singing your praises," and when he leaned in for a kiss this time she moved to meet him. 

"I never figured you for a PDA kind of guy," Jane said as they disentangled. "Public Display of Affection," she added as he looked a question at her. She nodded to the large window.

"I wasn't, before I met you," and he kissed her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henry Tilney on "nice" (Northanger Abbey): "It is a very nice word indeed! It does for everything. Originally perhaps it was applied only to express neatness, propriety, delicacy, or refinement—people were nice in their dress, in their sentiments, or their choice. But now every commendation on every subject is comprised in that one word.”
> 
> The Abbey: reference back to [this chapter in The Nobley Letters](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3392513/chapters/7571219).


	13. Dread

It had finally happened, the moment Jane had been dreading. In a sense she had been dreading it ever since the first night Henry had spent in New York, but it had really come into focus after the day on the High Line. Not that meeting the Andrews-Carerro clan on the way into the apartment building hadn't been a lovely end to that lovely day, or that the brunch they had the following weekend wasn't fun. The memories made Jane smile. There was Maria Carerro talking across the table, half-teasing Henry, half-praising him ("So tall", "So clever") until he blushed pink. There was Mollie laughingly telling her mother off, and Anthony Carerro meeting Jane's eyes with quiet approval. It had been the best possible introduction to the people she considered family. They liked him and he liked them, and it was all perfect...except for the dread. 

And now, just two days after the week-long Carerro visit, the worst had happened. 

"Jane?" The voice in her ear had become sharper. "Jane, are you wool gathering? I asked if it was true." 

"Sorry mom. Yes, it's true. We're together." 

Silence, a silence that Jane couldn't interpret and sent her spiraling into panic for the two seconds until the next question: "And he's a history professor?" 

"Yes." Jane swallowed and bit the bullet. "In Manchester." 

"Isn't that _wonderful_?" and Jane suddenly realized that, against all her expectations, her mother was pleased. "With your interest in history, you must have a lot to talk about." 

"Yes, yes we do." Jane rushed to get all the bad news out at once. "English history, mostly. He's English." 

"Oh, Maria told me _that_ ," said her mom dismissively. "Does he have a house?" 

Jane sat back in her chair, answered a question here and there, and let her mom's enthusiasm wash over her. Up was down, left was right, her mom was happy with someone Jane was going out with. Mom was rhapsodizing (and getting in digs about former boyfriends): talking about a "real" job, a "proper profession", security and a house and starting a family... 

"Woah mom, it's a bit early for that," because if mom started to get _that_ into her head, there'd be pressure and inevitable disappointment, and that usually didn't go well. 

Her mom took a breath. "He's not against marriage, is he? I know he's not American..." 

Jane felt like laughing. "No, he's not against marriage." 

"How old is he?" 

Jane wasn't quite sure where mom was going with this but, "Thirty-six." 

"Well, _then_ ," and Jane felt like laughing again. A single man aged thirty-six must be in want of a wife. In her amusement she stopped paying attention until her mom said "worth waiting for Mr Right. I'm so looking forward to meeting him next weekend." Dread reasserted itself. 

"You're coming to New York?" Please say no, please say no... 

"Why Jane, you know I go to New York every fall. _This_ year, I thought I'd come a little early." 

Jane squashed the dread. She was being irrational. Mom knew the worst and it was okay. She agreed to dinner the following Sunday, then went to tell Henry the news. 

* * *

Since the High Line, things had changed. They were no longer the adorable agoraphobic couple that Molly had called them, at least, not all the time. Jane and Henry explored the city together, going to all the places Jane loved, then all the places she hadn't got around to or Henry wanted to see. Tudor City, Grand Central Station, Bryant Park, the Met, the Empire State Building...they visited them all. 

That Sunday they sat on a rug in the Sheep Meadow in Central Park, with the remains of a deli takeout lunch and apparently the entire population of New York. It didn't matter: it was good to be in the sunshine, just being together. Jane was sketching the view, an imagined version empty of people. Henry watched her, his smile softening the intensity of his gaze. Jane glanced sideways at him and grinned. 

"Don't you get bored looking at me?" 

"I can't imagine ever tiring of looking at you, or listening to you," he said, as matter-of-factly as if he was remarking on the blueness of the sky over them. 

"You make me feel...," said Jane all in a rush, and then ran out of words to explain what was inside her: joy, acceptance, hope. Henry waited, then he grinned as she waved her hands, as if trying to conjure up the words. 

"You make me feel too," he said, very softly. Their gazes locked and suddenly it felt as if it was just the two of them, with the meadow as empty as Jane's sketch. 

They walked slowly back to the apartment, feeling the life of New York swirl around them. They probably looked like a pair of rubes, Jane thought, looking up at the architecture and at the street life swirling about them, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Words of an old song came to her, lines from a cheesy old movie that Jane had loved before the Austen obsession: "The great big city's a wondrous toy just made for a girl and boy". 

"You said that out loud," Henry said, amusement deep in his voice. Jane looked up and grinned and mouthed the next words. _We'll turn Manhattan into an isle of joy._

The walk took so long they had to rush when they got back: a scurry of rapid showers and hurried dressing. Jane surveyed herself in the mirror. Despite the speed, she was happy with the results. Her hair was up without a stray hair marring the do's lines, her dress was appropriately formal yet summery and her pumps matched perfectly, even if they pinched. 

Henry, handsome in his navy suit, polished shoes and pristine tie, looked at her thoughtfully as she exited the bedroom. "You look beautiful," he said slowly, "but uncomfortable. Austenland uncomfortable. Are you nervous?" 

"Yup," said Jane, and took a deep breath her yoga teacher would have been proud of. "Let's go get a cab." 

They were on time, but Shirley Hayes was waiting for them. Her blonde french twist was mechanical in its perfection, without a trace of grey. The blue eyes behind her spectacles were like Jane's, but practical and appraising. From her pink suit to perfectly matching yet practical heels, she looked like a woman in control of her life. Jane, who for most of her life had felt she was spiraling out of control, often wondered how she managed it. 

Shirley's nod of approval at Jane's appearance, followed by a warm hug, helped Jane's butterflies somewhat. Then Shirley's eyes widened a little as they fell on Henry, and Jane felt a flash of panic before the surprise on her Mom's face melted into a warm smile and a friendliness that Jane had not expected. As she talked about his work ("it's so nice to meet a real intellectual") Henry quickly relaxed, his faultless manners softened by his eagerness to please. 

The lightning bolt came from nowhere, halfway through the entrees. "It's hard to believe its August already," Jane's mom said. "How do you like fall in New Hampshire? My manicurist was telling me the leaves in the White Mountains are just breathtaking."

"I doubt they can live up to Vermont," said Henry. But Mom's approving smile faltered when he added, "Unfortunately I've never seen either. I look forward to it." Jane had watched her mother's face change from confusion to suspicion and instantly knew what had happened. 

Maria Carerra had said "Manchester". Shirley Hayes googled (who wouldn't) but when she found a Manchester with a university in the United States, she stopped looking. Of course she would. And to make it worse, the Manchester she found was in New Hampshire, next door to Vermont. A respectable, financially secure marriage, a home relatively close: that was everything that Jane's mom wanted for Jane's future. Eyes wide, all Jane could do was watch the disaster unfold as Henry explained that, no, it was the Manchester in England, and the friendliness leeched from her mom's face. 

As atmosphere grew colder, Jane tried to turn the meal around. She talked about how flexible academics were, how often they moved, how Henry himself was looking for a job. Henry backed her up, but confronted by Shirley's steely gaze and terse replies, his smile vanished and he too grew more stiff and formal in manner, finally lapsing into silence. Jane was glad her mom refused dessert. The black coffee was not more bitter than her mood. 

"I'll ring you," were the last words Shirley Hayes said to her daughter. To Henry she said nothing at all. Jane turned her back, glad to escape mom's disapproval, glad to walk hand in hand with Henry, get into a cab and get away as quickly as possible. She had not expected her anger to grow the closer they got to home and refuge. 

The moment the door closed, Henry turned to her, face still tense, his eyes remorseful. His touch on her shoulders was tentative, as if expecting her to pull away. When she didn't, he looked into her eyes and spoke. "I'm so sorry, Jane. I'm really so sorry." 

Jane could not speak for a moment, as the anger inside rose up up into fury. Not at Henry, but at her mother for hurting him. A deep breath, then she stepped closer and put her hand to his face. He nestled into it, his jaw fitting her hand perfectly, the faint bristles tickling her palm. As he did so, the tension fell away from his features, leaving a calm melancholy which hurt Jane's heart. "It wasn't you," and Jane was amazed at the steadiness of her voice. 

Henry turned his head to drop a kiss into her palm, then looked into her eyes again. He blinked as if thinking better of what he had just been about to say, then spoke. "What matters is you. You must be upset, at the very least. What can I do?" He paused, and his small smile had a hint of self-mockery. "Tea?" 

"That would be heaven," Jane said. "But first, a hug and I take these darn shoes off." She stroked down his face, tracing his delicious jaw, then moved in and wrapped both arms around his waist. He reacted instantly, enveloping her in his arms and sweeping her against his heart, finally coming to rest with his head upon hers. Jane breathed in his familiar scent and listened to his heart beat. Thump-thump, thump-thump, and her own heart-beat slowed, her anger cooling and solidifying into determination. She would not lose this. She would fight for it. 

He moved his head from where it rested on hers, and spoke. "Your feet?" 

"I'm torn," Jane answered into his chest, then gasped as Henry moved, swooping her into his arms, half because of the easing of the pressure on her feet, half for the heady feeling of adrenaline and romance. He walked to the couch and sat, leaving her still nestled into his chest. He bend his head down to look into her face, an intense adoring look that stabbed her in the heart. She smiled up. "That was really nice." She cursed her inarticulateness, but he smiled back. 

"Let's get those shoes off," and Henry slid out from under her legs, and onto one knee on the floor, like the fantasy dream of a shoe salesman. He drew off one one pump and winced at the marks on her foot. 

"May I burn these? Why do you wear them?" He rubbed the marked foot tentatively but firmly enough not to tickle and Jane groaned as cramped muscles loosened under his touch. 

"To please my mom," she finally answered, as he moved to the other foot. "I don't know why. There's no pleasing mom." 

"Surely not," Henry said, looking up from under his lashes half-teasing. There was still a slight air of melancholy about him. Much as Jane was loathe to put an end to his ministrations, they really needed to talk. 

"Come here," Jane said, patting the cushion beside her. 

"Tea first," Henry said with conviction. "Then I'm all yours." He was as good as his word, back beside her on the couch in five minutes, a cup of tea in Jane's hand and her feet resting in his lap. Enough time for Jane to think what to say. 

"First, I'm the one who should be sorry. I thought everything was okay. I wouldn't have walked you into that if I'd known." 

Henry shook his head. "It really doesn't matter." 

Jane felt the need to wave her hands around, and put the cup down. "It sorta does. Everything _was_ okay at the start. Mom liked you," and when Henry raised his eyebrows, "No. She did. She just...she always thought I'd give up on New York, move closer to Vermont. Hoped I would. She thought that was you. And then it turned out you lived more than three hours drive away..." She shrugged her shoulders at the inevitable reaction her mother was always going to have. 

"I didn't help," Henry said ruefully, and as Jane shook her head. "Jane. I know what I did. You don't have to sugarcoat it. I was stiff and formal, and I left you to patch things up on your own." He shrugged. "And now I want to help, but I don't know how to." 

The problem was, neither did Jane. In the past when Jane and her mom had a fight Pop stepped in to bridge the gap. That couldn't happen this time. Jane was, not for the first time, struck by the absence of her father, of how he had balanced a family that were out of whack without him. 

"I'll talk to her," Jane said. That's what Pop had always done, after all. "She'll listen and it'll be fine." It struck her a moment later that it might not be fine, and that this was a man who had heard too many lies. She would have to tell him the truth. "And if it isn't, I will tell you, I promise." 

He leaned forward a little to take her hand, then studied their intertwined fingers for a long minute. "May I ask something?" he said, very quietly, his eyes still fixed on their joined hands. 

"Sure." His eyes moved to meet hers, serious without a trace of laughter. 

"I don't want to cause a rift between you and your mother." His fingers stroked hers. "I have been there. It...was not a good time. I don't want you to experience that." 

Jane was full of questions, though she thought she could guess what the cause had been. Henry's ex must have been something else. It was hard to believe, having met Henry's mother, they could ever have been on bad terms. Another thought occurred to her. 

"We're not breaking up because my mom freaked out." 

His eyes scanned hers, then crinkled at the corners. "Okay. But I'm sure it won't come to that." Jane wished she was so sure. "Just, from what you're saying, when I have a job and something to offer in this country, it'll make all the difference. " 

"I guess," said Jane. She shifted, folding her legs beneath her to move closer to him. They sat like that in silence for some time, Jane close against Henry's chest and her arm around his back, his arm about her shoulders and his head resting on hers again. 

"And after all," he said very gently, "why antagonize your mother now, when I have to go back to England so soon?" 

Jane knew the days before he left could be counted on two hands. Yet his words came as a surprise because she had been very carefully forgetting. The dread of arguing with her mother was nothing to her dread of his leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thirteenth chapter. It was inevitable. 
> 
> I never meant to leave this so long, but trying to make the story real conflicted with it being a fairy tale. But really, if it was set now it would be even more complicated, so I can consider it a fairy tale again! I won't leave it so long again.


	14. Cover Art




End file.
